Chapter 3:

- First Day -

0900 Hours - May 6, 2545

Zulu Training Ground - Arizona Desert

CRACK!

"What the-" It sounded like gunfire.

CRACK!

Samuel felt something smack into the bottom of the bunk he was lying in and heard Ezekiel moan, then curse, "the Hell-"

CRACK!

"Get up, you slackers!" A low, gruff voice was yelling from the doorway. Samuel sat up in his bunk, then quickly jumped down. He turned to see Zeke slowly getting up, rubbing his forehead.

"Is this guy for real?" Blaine asked. He had managed to get up and walk over to them in the midst of the gunfire. "I mean, look at him, just waving a gun around." He waved his arms around mockingly.

CRACK!

CRACK!

The man started laughing as kids literally fell out of their beds scrambling for cover. "Relax!" he yelled, and everyone quieted, "it shoots blanks." He took the gun and slid it across the middle of the floor…but no one dared to touch it.

"Do you think-" Someone started to ask, but was cut off as the man retrieved another gun from his pocket. Samuel recognized it immediately: an M6D Pistol. A real M6D Pistol.

"Now this," he said, motioning to the handgun, "this is the real deal. Now, all of you, go through the door in single file and line up against the outer wall," he paused, then added sharply, "in single file."

Without a second thought, all twenty-four teens did exactly that, and Samuel found himself between a very stern-faced Blaine Everson and a very angry Zeke Veron.

Joy, he thought,


"This is the desert, ladies and gentlemen." The man said as he led them all outside, waving his pistol around nonchalantly. "Welcome home."

Jordan Hawks exchanged nervous glances with the teens to either side of him. One of them, he'd said his name was Ezekiel, had a smug grin on his face. His arms were crossed and his eyes were focused into a glare that could melt steel. The other boy, he had told Jordan his name was Alex. His mouth was agape as he stared into space, looking more than a little frightened.

Beyond each of them, he could see about a dozen buildings, and sand…lots of sand. For miles in all directions, that's all he could make out.

The man began to speak again. "My name is Corporal Charles. You will all address me as such." He paused. "The title 'sir' will also be acceptable." He smiled widely, then added, with abundant pride, "I'm a Marine."

Military? Jordan thought with slight relief, so, we weren't just kidnapped. He looked around to see that Alex had calmed a little, and Ezekiel's grin had widened slightly.

"In addition," Charles continued, "you should all know that we are not keeping you here." He motioned around at the multiple buildings and structures that dominated the landscape. "You notice there are no fences, no guards, no moats. However, it's better than fifty-miles that way to the nearest road, and even further to the nearest town…in any direction." He was completely still except for when he tilted his head to the right at the words "that way."

"You think any of us could survive a trek like that out here?" Alex whispered to the girl beside him. She shook her head calmly. Jordan silently agreed with her. There was no telling where they were, or how far away the nearest source of water was, much less civilization of any kind.

"Now, if any of you would like to leave, now is your chance." The Corporal finished sternly. "Otherwise, you do as you're told."

Jordan glanced around. No one moved…

…Except Ezekiel. He took two steps forward and looked at the officer. "And suppose we don't agree to what you want?" He paused, arrogance dripping from his tongue. "Sir."

The Corporal stepped silently toward him until they were five feet apart. Then he smiled wickedly. "Thought you'd never ask," he said.


Ezekiel was more than a little worried about his predicament. He had hoped his shot at the Marine would provoke him into doing something foolish, or at least get some irritated response, but the man acted as if he'd been waiting on Ezekiel's comment. Stay calm, he told himself, no good comes from letting him know you're nervous. Stay calm.

He followed Corporal Charles until the man led him to what looked like an enormous dog-cage. "Here we are. In you go." He said, opening a barred door. The moment he did, a dozen Marines nearby drew S2 AM Sniper Rifles to bear and watched the cage from all sides, intently.

After a moment's hesitation, Zeke stepped inside, and heard the gate door slam shut and lock behind him. "This cage is bigger is than my family's garage." Zeke mumbled to himself. The thought of his family tore at him for a moment, causing his eyes to well up, but he forced the tears back and slowly regained his focus. This cage isn't for looks, he thought, and I'm guessing those Marines aren't either. Tears aren't going to make any difference here.

"You remember what a Covenant Elite looks like, right boy?" The Corporal asked loudly, and with an air of smugness.

Zeke thought it was one of the most ridiculous questions he'd ever heard, but answered anyway. "Yes," he said calmly, "can you remember the last time you took a shower?"

There were giggles and short laughs from the crowd, but they stopped abruptly as an elevator seemed to rise straight out of the ground on the other side of cage, not sixty feet away from Zeke. When it opened, even he couldn't suppress a gasp.

A fully-armored, white, Spec-Ops Elite emerged from the elevator before it dropped back under the ground, its ceiling evening out perfectly with the sand-covered concrete floor. Zeke noticed a Plasma Rifle on the Elite's right hip, and an Energy Sword latched on the other.

The Elite's mandibles spread apart as it snarled menacingly at him. It began slowly taking steps forward. After a few steps, Zeke got a good, nearly-calm look at the creature and realized it was every bit of the eight-and-a-half-feet of terror that it had been described as in Zeke's "War & Tactics" class…the class Zeke had slept through!

"What is this?" Zeke yelled angrily. "Don't I get a weapon?" The Corporal laughed.

"He won't need them, boy."

"How comforting," Zeke growled sarcastically under his breath. As the Elite got closer and closer, he found his options were almost nonexistent. Corporal Charles had done this to make an example out of him, not to challenge him. He was hopelessly outclassed, outgunned, and, to be frank about it, outmatched. "Not funny," he mumbled, looking up at the sky, at Heaven, "not funny at all."


"This is wrong!" One girl snapped as the Elite closed the gap between itself and Ezekiel. "Who just sticks a boy in a cage with a monster?"

Landon was inclined to agree. No matter what kind of smart remarks he'd made, this was rediculous. "She's right." He sadly admitted to a new acquaintance beside him, Jason Zant. His other "friend" he'd made, Jordan Hawks, nodded in agreement.

The girl who'd yelled at the Corporal came stomping up to them. "You guys don't think they'd let that...that thing kill him, do you?" Landon spoke first.

"Well, I doubt-"

"Ah!" Zeke's voice rang from the cage as the Elite punched him in the stomach half-heartedly. Zeke sprang up and threw a few punches, but against a creature with what seemed like superhuman strength and reflexes, it was pointless. Even when he did connect with one, it hit the beast in its helmet, and Zeke drew back his now-swelling fist in pain.

"He's gonna kill him to teach him a lesson!" The girl said. Suddenly, the Elite drew both arms back before thrusting them both up into Zeke's stomach, causing him to fly back into the bars that made up the wall of the cage. There was a cracking sound as he fell to the concrete.

With that, Landon realized it too. He really will kill him, he thought angrily, or at least make him wish he were dead.


Zeke hit the ground in a heap, and he felt a bone in his left hand snap as he tried to catch himself on the ground. He got on his knees and his good hand, his breath coming in short gasps. He'd felt a bone in his leg at least crack as well when the Elite hurled him into the wall.

Suddenly, as he tried to catch his breath, he felt cold, clawed fingers grip the underside of his chin as the Elite's palm pressed up against his nose and mouth. Before he could even react, the creature had flipped him over its head, and Ezekiel landed flat on his back on the concrete. Shockingly, his body sustained the blow without any broken bones.

But now the Elite was standing in the precise spot to be between him and the door. As if that psychotic Corporal would release me anyway. He thought. That crazy son of a-

CRACK!

Zeke felt not one, but two ribs break as the Elite kicked him across the cage, into the bars making up the wall across from the door. In a haze, he slowly, painfully pulled himself up off the ground. The longer I lie here, the more he's gonna lay into me with that dang left foot of his.

The Elite got closer until they were less than a foot apart and Ezekiel had to bend his neck to see the creature's snarling mandibles. Then, without warning, it gripped him around the neck and held him high above its head. Zeke could feel his feet dangling four-and-a-half feet off the ground.

He could hear screams from outside the cage, but the Elite's grip got no looser. Even when he could've sworn he heard the Corporal yell "enough!" the beast didn't stop. Finally, when he felt his very life being drained from him, Zeke let his right knee come up with all the effort he could muster. It struck the Elite under the chin and caused it to rear its head straight back, snarling in pain. Even though his knee was bleeding from the sharp point on the Elite's helm, Zeke managed to form his right hand flat, and he chopped the creature's neck with all he had.

The Elite's hand let go immediately, clutching its neck as it dropped Zeke to the floor once more. As his vision returned, he saw the Elite recover. It roared at him with a rage Zeke could almost feel radiating from it. A second later, the white-armored alien activated its pulsating, blue-white Energy Sword.

Even while the Elite was holding the blade at chest-level, Zeke could feel the white-hot plasma singing his skin from a distance. This Elite had armor; he had a pair of jean-shorts and a tank-top. This is it, he reasoned, looking at the Plasma Rifle not two feet away from him, might as well try to do as much damage as possible to this miserable pain-in-the-

"I said to stop!" The Corporal's voice sounded throughout the area. The Elite turned its head to him before looking back at Zeke, then growled angrily. "Enough!" Corporal Charles yelled again. The Marines standing near the cage cocked their Sniper Rifles, almost in unison. Each one was pointed directly at the Elite.

Ezekiel watched as the Elite slowly, methodically deactivated the blade and stalked away, snarling all the way to the elevator. It rose, opened as the alien stepped in, then shut and descended. The moment the elevator leveled out with the ground, Ezekiel collapsed against the bars.

"Are you gonna make it?" Samuel or Blaine asked laughingly from the other side of the bars right behind him. Zeke couldn't tell which.

He turned toward them painfully and gave his arrogant trademark smirk. "I think I'm gonna like it here." He said calmly.